


The Snow Wight Magic

by genmitsu



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M, Magic, Rating May Change, Rating will most definitely change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 16:40:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17410472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genmitsu/pseuds/genmitsu
Summary: On hiatus since spring.---When Jim set out in search for a magical cure to save his friend, he never knew it would lead him to love as well...Or an AU where Jim is a hunter, Oswald is a magical creature of winter and the love between the two is kind of a forbidden thing. Enjoy!Written for Gobblepot Winter 2018 event.---The daylight is scarce this side of December, and he has to check the snares and set them anew if they caught something, so he set out with the first break of dawn, when most of the towners were still asleep. Jim enjoys the way Gotham is so quiet on such mornings, streets clean with snow and empty, even stray dogs and cats are hiding somewhere for warmth, and it feels as if he’s the only living person in the whole world. Instead of making him lonely, it stirs something inside him, some urge, some unknown want. The feeling disappears once he enters the forest - it is never a lonely place.





	The Snow Wight Magic

**Author's Note:**

> As always, the initial idea grew to unexpected proportions, but I'm excited to see where this all leads. Hope you'll join me~

 

 

“It is time for you to return.”

Jim hears the words without understanding them at first, and he just looks up, into those eyes that gaze at him sternly but not without kindness.

“You’ve served me well, with earnesty and respect. Now your debt is paid and you have to return.”

The thought of the return to his usual life, to his old home, so dear before, now frightens him. Jim’s gotten used to the cold, and while he might never _love_ it, he’s certainly come to love _him._ How will he go on now, alone? It’s impossible, utterly, completely impossible.

“Can’t I stay? Please, I beg of you,” he pleads, bowing his head.

“No, Jim,” the reply comes gently for all its implacability. “You can’t.”

 

**_A month before…_ **

 

The snow crunches pleasantly under Jim’s feet as he makes his way uphill. The daylight is scarce this side of December, and he has to check the snares and set them anew if they caught something, so he set out with the first break of dawn, when most of the towners were still asleep. Jim enjoys the way Gotham is so quiet on such mornings, streets clean with snow and empty, even stray dogs and cats are hiding somewhere for warmth, and it feels as if he’s the only living person in the whole world. Instead of making him lonely, it stirs something inside him, some urge, some unknown want. The feeling disappears once he enters the forest - it is never a lonely place.

Birds awaken and chirp, jumping from branch to branch - the tiny bullfinches with their red breasts, bright and cheery, the occasional brambling. Too tiny to hunt, they bring a smile to Jim’s face with their company. After the blizzard last night the trees look soft and fluffy under piles of snow, even the prickly firs. Jim likes those, evergreen, as if reminding him that even the darkest winter will end, leaving nothing behind but way for new life, for spring. They all are desperate for the winter to end. Even the promise of the Midwinter celebrations doesn’t lighten the general mood.

Jim makes it to the first set of snares and finds two rabbits there, a good start for the day. He stuffs them into his game bag, resets the snares, continues on. Next set of traps is empty, but he notices a wild turkey nearby and brings it down with a swift shot. His game bag is significantly heavier by the time Jim’s finished resetting his last snare. It’s time to go back, but not before a bit of rest. Jim sits on the fallen log, its bark cold and icy, and he munches on a couple of crackers, washing them down with herbal tea that’s long gone cold in his flask but still serves to invigorate him. The forest is quiet around him, the softness of the snow muffling all sounds except his own breathing and some bird chirping. It’s like the time itself stands still.

Then comes a soft tinkle, silvery and clear like tiny bells, and the temperature drops several degrees. There’s an edge to the air now, biting at Jim’s exposed skin, but the curiosity gets the better of him and he moves towards the sound - does he even see some lights? What could that be, in the middle of the forest?..

As Jim peeks out from behind a large tree, he can’t quite believe his eyes. There are figures dancing in the clearing between the firs, bluish-white or even completely blue like the way snow looks in the shadows of the forest. In the scarce rays of the sun their skin sparkles softly, like ice, like it’s translucent, their clothes whirling up flurries of snowflakes, and their voices are those clear silvery sounds, erupting in laughter and song. Snow wights.

The legends and tales warn the children to never approach them lest they’d be kidnapped, taken away to the realm of Winter to never be seen again. The legends say they eat people if they find them alone in the woods, or freeze them to death just for fun. Meeting snow wights has never been lucky for anyone, even the bravest heroes in the tales. Jim’s breath is caught in his throat, he knows he should back away before they notice him, before he is doomed. Instead he stays frozen in his spot, looking on, completely mesmerized by their dance and the way snowflakes join it. There’s also a figure to the side of the dancers, looking over them with a benevolent smile. That snow wight looks like a young man with sharp features, his skin is light blue, and his hair is white as snow. There’s something sparkly on his head, like a small crown made of icicles. Could it be the Winter King, Jim wonders. Then the wight meets Jim’s eyes, making his heart thump loudly, and frowns. He claps his hands together and the dancers all turn into snow flurries, disappearing with the wind. Jim blinks, but there’s no one left on that clearing, just snow and silence, as if everything’s been only a mirage.

It doesn’t feel right just to move from his spot, something tugging inside, some unease. Jim murmurs the words of thanks and bows towards the clearing, where the Winter King stood, and the strange feeling leaves him. He breathes out - it’s much warmer than moments before, but he’s been standing there long enough for his joints to get all cold and stiff. Jim turns towards the town again, making his way through the forest, but the dance of the snow wights is not easily forgotten. It was something so beautiful - winter never looked that beautiful to him.

He makes it back in some sort of daze, but Gotham is alive and bustling, an immediate distraction from his thoughts, an immediate return from whatever magical place Jim’s wandered into today, and it brings all the usual fuss. Jim sells most of his haul, saving but a rabbit for himself and a turkey for Harvey. He drops by the tavern on the way home.

“Jim! Come in, come in, let’s get somethin’ warm in ya!” Harvey says as soon as he sees him from behind the counter.

Jim stomps his boots to leave the most of the snow on the doormat, brushes it off his shoulders and shakes out his hat before he proceeds to his friend. Scottie, Harvey’s wife, would not appreciate him muddying her perfectly swept floors for no good reason. There’s no one at the tavern at this hour, most towners still busy with cattle and their trades and whatnot, as long as there’s still daylight and you don’t have to use up your valuable candles or oil, but they’ll be arriving here in a couple of hours.

“Got you a turkey today, Harv,” Jim says, taking the bird out of his bag and handing it to the older man.

“You’re a saviour, Jim,” he grins at him and puts a mug of mulled wine in front of Jim. “You know how Scottie gets when she can’t get her fowl.”

Jim hums in sympathy, taking the mug in both his hands to warm them up. The wine smells delicious, cloves and cinnamon and nutmeg, and a generous dose of honey too, which Jim notices as soon as he takes a sip. The warmth courses through his body slowly, settling in his core like a glowing ember.

“I love you, you know that?” he tells Harvey with all the gratitude that fills his soul at being warm again and gives him a goofy grin.

“Pretty sure you did, a couple times… or a dozen!” Harvey laughs and pats Jim’s shoulder. “That hit you faster than usual, my boy, haven’t you eaten at all today?”

“I have, in the forest,” Jim takes another sip, enjoying the smell and the taste all the more for its pleasant familiarity. “You know how it gets.”

“Yeah, hungry again before you make it back. They don’t call it the _Hungry Woods_ for nothing, that’s for sure.”

“Funny, but I’ve never come away empty-handed from the forest, so I’m not sure how that _Hungry_ part’s come to be. Except that.”

“That’s because you’re a good hunter, Jim,” Harvey says and shakes his head at Jim’s dismissive shrug. “The only one who comes close to you is old man Barnes, and even he returns without any haul two times out of three.”

“Well, he’s old, isn’t he? Doesn’t go as far as I can.” It’s for the best too. Even for Jim trekking through the forest is not at all easy in winter, and the animals know to keep away from the edge.

“Won’t argue with you there, my boy. He never brings me turkeys,” Harvey says as Jim finishes up his wine. “Do you want to join us for dinner? Scottie won’t mind.”

“I’m okay, Harvey,” Jim smiles. Scottie, pregnant and busy with the tavern as it is, has enough on her hands to be happy for an extra guest at her family dinner. Better not intrude on their private time. “I’ll be cooking some rabbit stew tonight.” He gets up, gathering his game bag and putting on his hat again. “Thanks for the wine!”

“Be careful on your way home,” Harvey warns him, seeing Jim wobbling towards the door. “And don’t forget to eat, boy!”

“Sure, mom,” Jim laughs, closing the tavern door behind him.

The wine really went to his head, but the cold air outside fixes it up almost as fast. Jim walks steadier with every step, nodding hellos to familiar faces, and he’s almost at his house when something hits him in the back. He turns sharply and gets hit with a snowball right in his face. The laughter erupts as he huffs and tries to brush the snow off. Two voices.

“You little rascals,” Jim growls playfully, scoops up some snow and makes a snowball of his own. “I’ll show you how to attack me in broad daylight!” And he throws it, aiming at the girl.

“Selina, duck!” Bruce exclaims and jumps to the side, and they both laugh again at Jim missing.

“Come on, Jim!” Selina taunts, readying another snowball. “Aren’t you our best shot?”

“You’re ganging up on me!” Jim cries, throwing the snowballs at the kids as soon as he makes them but they both are agile and quick on their feet and he only nicks them sometimes while they bombard him with snow without any mercy and tackle him into a snowbank in the end. Jim uses the opportunity to grab them both and bring them down with him, so all three get covered in snow - but the kids fall face first and Jim feels slightly vindicated at that. They emerge, huffing and laughing, and trying to shake the snow off their hair like dogs.

“You’re back from the forest, right?” Bruce asks, trying to get up but Jim holds him down, grinning.

“Seen anything cool? White foxes?” Selina butts in. “You told us they could come out this time of year.”

“Nope, no foxes today. Seen something a lot better though.”

“What? What?” they both urge Jim on as he pauses and looks at them mischievously.

“Snow wights,” he says, his mind returning immediately to that little clearing and the pale figures dancing. “They sparkle like stars and they dance like snowflakes, whirling and whirling. Oh, and also the Winter King was there, and--”

“You’re just pulling our legs!” Selina huffs and blows some snow in his face, making Jim sneeze. They laugh at him again and wriggle free at last, pulling Jim to his feet. “Everybody knows if you meet snow wights, you won’t make it back! Especially if the Winter King was there - he’d freeze you in an instant!”

“You’d just stay in the forest then, like an ice statue,” Bruce adds, with a touch of seriousness that makes Jim wonder if the boy believes him in earnest. “Wouldn’t want that to happen to you, Jim.”

“Yeah, we’d miss you. Probably. Maybe,” Selina shrugs. “But don’t lie to us anymore!”

“Ooph!” Jim exclaims at her suddenly poking him hard in the stomach. “Okay, okay! I’m sorry! There wasn’t anything fun in the woods today, so I made it up. Now run along you two, there’s still plenty of people for you to bother!”

He watches them run away from him, giggling, and shakes his head. Little whirlwinds, the two of them, as if Selina alone wasn’t a handful. Got him winded and snow-covered all over again - right as he was ready to enter his house too. Jim takes care to brush the most of the snow off his jacket and stomps his boots in earnest before entering inside.

The house is colder now, the embers in the hearth just barely glowing. Jim hangs his jacket and adds more firewood, coaxing the dying fire to burn brighter again. As it catches, licking at the logs, Jim unstrings his bow and puts it away, and gets busy with cooking that rabbit stew.

***

Selina runs ahead of Bruce, laughing. The day was so bright! They ran into Jim too, he’s always good to tease and he takes them up on their games, unlike most adults here. He looked so funny too, sneezing like a cat. A cat! She giggles.

“Caught you!” Bruce grabs her sleeve, and he’s out of breath. Such a silly boy, thinking he can keep up with her. She lets him catch her, of course, why else? If she really wanted to run away, no one would’ve been able to catch her. But Bruce - no, she doesn’t really want to run away from him. She smiles and wiggles free to circle him and push at his back.

“Yeah you did,” she says. “And now we’re going skating!”

“But we didn’t bring the skates!” Bruce protests, but lets himself be pushed. Really, such a pushover he is, it’s almost sweet.

“ _You_ didn’t bring the skates,” Selina giggles. “I, on the other hand, took care of everything.”

And then she lets Bruce gape at her scaling that big tree over the frozen lake and take two pairs of skates out of the hollow in the trunk. She meant to surprise him and take him skating as a gift for Midwinter, but, really, she’ll come up with something else. It’s fun teaching Bruce things. Like running through the streets without bumping into anyone, or how to sneak up on Jim Gordon, who’s supposed to be Gotham’s best hunter and yet they still catch him unawares. Selina snickers at the memory and shows Bruce how to attach the skates to his boots, and then she tugs him onto the ice.

He’s so wobbly and unsteady and he looks at her with genuine fear as he grips her hands. She lets him. Whatever. Such a scaredy-cat, Bruce.

“Come on, it’s nothing to be afraid of! The worst that could happen is you hit your knees, that’s all!”

Turns out she’s wrong.

They skate together for a while, and then Bruce gets more confident, letting go of her hands and trying to skate on his own. She cheers him on, not realizing he’s gone too far from the shore.

There’s a telltale crack of ice and a small but too quick a fracture going through the lake right under Bruce’s feet.

“Bruce!” she calls, trying to silence the edge of panic in her voice. “Come back, silly!”

He turns towards her, but as soon as he tries to make a step, there’s another crack, another fracture blooming under him as a weird spider-web, so sinister and scary - no, she’s not scared! Bruce is - definitely.

“Selina?” he says, his voice trembling as he fights for composure. “What do I do?”

“Y-you’re okay,” she reassures him, feeling none of her usual confidence. “Move towards me, slowly.”

He only has to make a few steps and he’d reach the solid ice again… except it cracks more at his slightest movement, and it’s like something’s breaking inside Selina with every crack. But she has to look brave, like she knows what she’s doing - like always. Rope. They need rope, she’ll be able to pull him close if… if… She doesn’t have anything like that on her.

“Bruce, try to… try to lie on the ice,” she remembers someone telling her that. Jim? If only Jim was here! Maybe she should get him? But it’s too far, and she can’t really leave Bruce here all alone. “But be careful, silly, and don’t poke it with your stupid knees.”

He smiles at her reassuringly - as if it’s her who needs that, not him - and tries to lower himself on the ice.

Selina can’t quite remember what happens then.

A loud crack, ice breaking, splashes, Bruce’s pale face disappearing from her sight.

She screams his name and lunges towards him, by some miracle slipping and sliding on her stomach to the gaping opening instead of running to it and cracking the ice more. There’s something in the back of her mind telling her she has to stay that way.

Calling for Bruce, her throat going hoarse immediately.

His hand, grabbing the edge of ice.

Her, reaching out for him and grabbing him with all the strength she could muster. Trying her hardest to pull him out as the ice cracks threateningly around her as well.

Bruce, rolling out onto the ice at last, and her, dragging him away from the dangerous spot before she tumbles down and holds him close, crying.

Someone coming towards them, rushed anxious voices, questions, reassurances that they will be alright.

It’s the scariest day Selina’s ever had.

***

Bruce is lying in bed, aflame with fever. He hears voices nearby, muffled, as if through a thick woollen blanket. Alfred. Selina. Someone unfamiliar.

Selina is angry at first, he almost feels her fiery rage in his skin, burning with his fever. Alfred says something soft, too soft, and somehow that makes Selina cry, and Bruce knows she’s crying for him.

No… he can’t make Selina cry, she’ll never forgive him…

He has to do something, anything, but he can’t even utter a word, his throat aching as if he’s swallowed a handful of broken glass. Brittle. He’s burning up and he’s so brittle. How can he both be so hot and chilled to the bone?

His hand moves slightly, and that must have caught Selina’s attention, for her fingers wrap around it. Warm. Trembling.

“It’s going to be alright, Bruce,” she whispers in a tight voice. “I’ll make it right.”

“You just hang on, silly,” he hears just as he slips into oblivion once again.

***

Jim walks out of his house as usual, as the dawn begins to break and everything is silent around him. No. Not everything, not today - there’s some sound of steps, someone running behind him, and he turns just in time to catch Selina in his arms.

“Whoa there!” he exclaims, surprised. “What are you doing out here at this hour?”

And then Jim realizes she’s crying her head off, tears streaming down her face as she clutches at Jim’s jacket desperately, as if trying to hold off whatever it is that got her into this state.

“Selina?” She doesn’t answer, doesn’t react, she only seems to be crying harder. “Selina? Cat? _Cat!_ ”

The old nickname seems to snap her out of the hysteria, and she raises her head to look at Jim and seems to finally recognize him. She tries to stop crying, biting at her lip.

“Now, what’s wrong? Where are you going, Cat?” Jim asks, just slightly teasing, because he’s never really seen Selina cry.

“It’s Br-Bruce,” she hiccups despite her efforts to regain her calm. “He’s so sick, he’s burning up, and they say he’ll, he’ll…” she gives up completely and sobs harder, clutching to Jim. “And they say he’ll _die_ , that only a miracle can save him now-- and it’s all _my fault_ , Jim, it’s all my fault! I took him to the lake!”

Jim is taken aback by the ferocity of her grief, by her broken voice and the shudders that shake her small figure so violently. He attempts to pat her head, find some comforting words, but what can he say that would make it all better?

“So I’m going to-- the forest,” she utters through her tears. “I’m going to find that Winter King, I’ll beg him for a miracle, whatever he wants, I just-- I just can’t let Bruce die!”

“No, Cat,” Jim says, holding her by the shoulders and shaking her slightly. “You can’t go.”

It’s dangerous enough in the forest even for an experienced hunter such as him, but actually seeking out snow wights and the Winter King is tantamount to suicide. Their dark and cold magic isn’t meant for curing anyone, it’s what brings the blizzards and freezes the blood in your veins on the cold day. Why did he even tell the kids he saw them? Selina would have never thought about going into the Hungry Woods otherwise.

“You can’t _stop_ me, Jim!” she retorts, bright and angry.

“I’m not trying to,” he kneels in front of her, getting on her level. “I’ll go in your stead. I know where to find him,” or at least he thinks so. “I’ll get there faster since I know the way, okay? You can trust me on this. Can you, Cat?”

Selina watches him, the fire burning in her eyes, but in the end she nods, reluctantly.

“Yeah, I… I guess.”

“Good. Leave it to me,” Jim stands up again. “You just stay by Bruce’s side, alright? I know he’ll pull through if you’re with him.” He pats her on the shoulder. “Wipe your nose, Kitty Cat. I won’t be long.”

Jim smiles at her, reassuringly, he hopes, and turns to the forest. The trek to that spot he’s seen the wights at is long and arduous, but he can make it quick anyway, since he won’t be making detours to his other snares. The hope that drives him is pure madness, because the snow wights bring death, not miraculous cures. They are, for all their beauty, the things that make everyone dread winter, they are its merciless fangs and claws, reaping whatever’s left of life with casual cruelty of the cold. But it would take them three days on horseback to get to the nearest town that might have a decent doctor, and if Gotham’s doctor says it’s that dire… they might just not make it.

So it’s madness. Big deal, Jim tries to pump himself up. He did manage to survive his brush with the snow wights. Maybe his luck will hold this time as well. Better him risk it than Selina anyway.

Jim reaches that clearing and stands on its edge in trepidation. Just what _exactly_ is he planning to do? Ask air and wind for help? The thing with magic is you never knew if it truly was magic or something you thought you saw, some trick of your own mind. But Jim couldn’t have imagined someone like the Winter King, so there’s that.

He takes a deep breath and steps into the clearing. He bows his head politely as he would upon entering a nobleman’s house.

“Blessed be your realm, o Lord of Winter,” Jim speaks, his voice ringing through the silence of the forest. “I have come to humbly beg you for help.”

Everything falls silent around him, no sound of birds, or even the wind. Then, softly, there’s that tinkling he heard the first time, and the air is frozen around him. Jim feels there’s someone in front of him, and suddenly he’s afraid to look there.

“Who are you?” a voice asks him, a sound unlike anything he’s ever heard before. “What do you want?”

Jim dares to raise his head, and his eyes meet with those of the Winter King, icy cold and transparent. It’s so strange to look at someone so clearly not human, so different, and fear and wonder mix inside Jim and render him mute. Then the King raises his eyebrows, snowy white as his hair, and Jim realizes just how slim his chances are and what a fool he is for staring at the King instead of stating his plea.

“I am Jim Gordon, my lord,” he says, his lips feeling frozen and moving so unwillingly. “I come to ask for help of your magic - there’s a child, a young boy deathly ill from cold. Please save him, lord! I’ll do whatever you ask if only you do.” And he bends his head once more, waiting.

“That is… unusual,” the King hums. “But it’s rare we see mortals so brave - or so foolish. Follow me, then.”

Jim straightens up and sees a glittering opening in front of him, like a flurry sparkling in the moonlight, and the King walks into it, beckoning Jim with a wave of his hand. Jim takes a deep breath and steps inside the flurry. It feels as if the snowflakes cut into his face, leaving tiny pinpricks of pain behind, and it’s getting colder with every step, and then it’s suddenly over.

Jim finds himself in a vast icy hall, blue and white and silver, crystals in the walls giving off a bright light, and as he stands there gaping at the beauty of it, the King walks further on and suddenly lowers himself on one knee in front of the throne. Only then Jim notices that the throne, ornate and sparkling, is occupied by another snow wight - a woman. Her skin is the darkest blue of the night sky, her eyes are even darker, and her hair is short and black and adorned with a glittering ice crown.

“My liege,” the King says, addressing her. “This mortal comes to us for help,” and Jim can’t help noticing the tone of great surprise and confusion in the King’s voice. The woman on the throne nods to him and motions for Jim to come closer, which he does, feeling stiff and uneasy. Should he bow again, since the King treats her with such respect? He does, and straightens up as she begins to talk.

“I know of your plight, Jim Gordon,” she says. “I saw the boy fall in and come out. I saw the girl on her way to me. Why do _you_ come here instead?”

“They’re my friends, my lady,” Jim answers simply. “And they’re only kids. I ought to protect them first if I can.”

“Even if it means you have to shoulder the burden that is not yours to bear?”

“Yes, my lady.”

She regards him with a slight thoughtful smile and Jim tries his best not to fidget under her gaze.

“Very well,” she says at last. “I shall give you the cure for the boy that will save him from the Death’s grasp… this time.”

“Oh thank you, my lady!” Jim exclaims, unable to hold back his relief. He couldn’t even hope for this working out - and it has to work, too, it’s magic, after all.

“In return,” the dark woman continues, quelling him with her raised palm, “you shall stay here with us and serve me.”

Jim was prepared to pay with his life for the miracle, but the woman’s words leave him dumbfounded. He stands there, looking from her to the King and back again.

“Yes,” she smiles in a pleased way. “You shall serve the Winter Queen.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! As always, any feedback is greatly appreciated :)


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